


Lovesick

by fraukuryakin



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, juice has the body of a stripper and no one can tell me otherwise, stripper juice, u h idk what to tag this as, will all come later...i got a plan homies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2018-12-13 01:53:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11749644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fraukuryakin/pseuds/fraukuryakin
Summary: Chibs Telford is a practical man. He's a man's man. He isn't the kind of man to walk into an off road male strip club and get flirted with by a young bartender. Except that's exactly the situation he finds himself in. And things just grow from there.-AU where Juice isn't part of the Sons at all but a stripper that takes a liking to Chibs, and both run into unexpected feelings





	1. Chapter 1

He knew it wasn’t club business, not important club business anyway, because then they wouldn’t have sent him on his own. No, this was just a half way useless errand that sends him riding along the dusty Californian roads. He can be a stubborn mule (not as stubborn as some of his brothers mind), but he’d only resisted once, twice, three times before finally relenting and packing a small bag for the road. It’s to cool him down, clear his head, and although pussy, booze and fights go a long way in helping, everyone knows what a quiet ride alone does for Chibs. Maybe that’s why he didn’t resist too much, because after all the club’s been through he really does need some rest, really does need some time to set his head on straight.

He actually has to stay in a motel, no charters or local clubs being in the area, but it’s not like it’s a five star establishment. The paint is peeling and the window doesn’t close properly, and he’s not sure if that’s mould in the ceiling corner or something else. At least the bed sheets are clean, though he wouldn’t want to check the mattress underneath them. He sits on the bed and thinks about the road he has ahead tomorrow, wonders what time he should get up. He looks at the clock. Late. But he isn’t ready to settle. He stands, casting a glance to the cut on the chair but, judging by the look the motel owner gave him when he saw it, he doesn’t think it’s a good idea to check out the scenery wearing it.

A few words (the owner is considerably more relaxed without the cut being present, or at least as relaxed as you can be faced with a scarred, mean looking bastard like Chibs) and he’s directed to the nearest joint. He would have been fine with a nice whiskey in the motel lobby (if you could call it that) but no such luck. He squints at the neon signs, sneers a little before he steps in. Any other night a place like this would be just the ticket, but he’s not much in the mood tonight. He can feel the music thudding through the soles of his feet as he makes a beeline to the bar and orders a drink, sinking into the stool.

“Haven’t seen you ‘round here before.”

He acts as if he hasn’t heard the voice. He doesn’t want to talk right now, especially to a barman who’s feeling talkative for some reason.

“Aren’t the chatty type, huh?”

The guy still won’t give up. Chibs takes a sip of his drink, looks down at his glass and notices it’s finished. He’ll have to talk to him, he supposes. “Can be when I feel like chattin’,” He says, letting out a little grunt as he shifts in his seat to face the man head on. He hadn’t taken in him when he was served the first time around. The kid (because he’s quite young) looks at him with an amused twist to his expression that’s absolutely infuriating, and he’s wearing some sort of black band shirt with the sleeves cut off. It looks fucking ridiculous, but thinking back to what he and the club usually wear, he can’t really talk.

The barman lets out a barely heard scoff, but his eyes flick up and down Chibs as best they can, before he speaks again, “You’ll be wanting a refill, I’m guessing.”

Another grunt from Chibs, before he slides his glass over, “Smarter than you look, lad.”

“Oh? Charming _and_ talkative. It really is my lucky night." He fills the glass as told to, with a little chuckle.

“I just want to relax, kid, yeah?”

“Bad day then? Is that the long face?”

He just won’t shut his fucking mouth. Chibs looks up at him with a less than pleased expression on his face. He’s grinning now, the kid, staring at him with an expectant look in his eyes. He wishes he’d worn the cut, maybe then he’d be too scared to talk to him. God…no, knowing this guy it would probably just serve as another conversation point. Why is he so desperate to speak with him anyway? He throws the drink back. He’ll be needing it, it seems.

“Listen, I’m sure you don’t mean harm, or maybe you really do just wanna piss me off, but I’m in no mood to talk. I just wanna be left alone.” There. That’s clear, isn’t it? And the barman doesn’t say anything, so maybe he’s got the message. He _does_ refill his glass though.

Chibs sighs, “I have’ne the best day, no. Have’ne the best day in a long time now.”

The other barely manages to hide a triumphant look, but Chibs is beyond caring right now, and instead feels somewhat comforted by his bright smile, “Yeah, I’ve had plenty of those. Still, can’t think of a better way of taking care of it than with whiskey. You don’t wanna switch up the poison a bit?”

The older man actually chuckles, shaking his head, “Can’t beat what you know, ay?”

He’s not even put the whiskey back in it’s place, the rate Chibs is moving at, “So, you passing through on business then?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Oh, everyone passes through on business here.” He holds the bottle up to show it’s empty with a little smirk (whiskey’s popular).

“Matter of fact, I am passing through on business. Dropping something off with a friend and then heading on back.”

“Can’t trust Fed-Ex these days, huh?”

Chibs barks out a laugh at that, “Damn right…”

The boy chuckles along and bends to get a new whiskey bottle from under the bar, swapping the nozzle from the empty bottle to that one. There’s a deliberateness to his movements, like he’s thinking something over, though he only looks up from the drink to Chibs after a while of quiet between them, tilting his head.

“Does that mean you’ll be passing through here again on your way back?”

Chibs doesn’t respond to that. He doesn’t know _what_ to respond to that, to tell the truth. He looks straight back at the barman and tries to work out his motives here, the inkling that he could be flirting having not even set in his brain yet. Before he can reply another man walks behind the bar, catching the young barman’s attention with a pat to his ass, making him jump slightly.

“Hey, it’s about time you get ready, Juice. I’ll take over here.”

Juice nods, pouring himself a drink before returning his attention to Chibs, “Duty calls. And by the way, if you wanted to get left alone, you came to the wrong place.”

Chibs frowns in confusion, but when Juice nudges his head he turns around to look beyond the bar to the rest of the club. Ah. There’s a stage where two men are grinding against each other, and chairs and booths full of guys with other pretty little things on their arms or laps, others still being led to other parts of the club. He turns back to look at Juice with new eyes and an open mouth. He grins right back at Chibs, taking his shot and giving him a cheeky wink, before he moves out from behind the bar and disappears into the club. To get ready. Whatever that means.

After a few moments he finds out soon enough, graced with the sight of Juice on stage. He’s wearing tight black boxers that hug his body, that grin of his lighting up his face as he jerks and flows to the music. He scans the audience, but it doesn’t take him long to lock eyes with Chibs, giving him a salacious look and another wink that makes his stomach flip. He pays for his drinks and leaves after that, going back to his motel room and trying not to think about the events of the night. In the morning though, when the day is bright and quiet, and the breeze whips past him as he speeds down the roads, he can’t help but think of the funny kid with his even odder name, and the hangover that came with him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chibs finds himself stopping at a certain establishment on his way back to Charming.

Chibs could have ridden on. The sun is on it’s way to sinking into night, and there’s no need to stop here again, could just pass it completely and make it to the club sometime tomorrow. And yet here is he, booking a room in the same motel, recognised with displeasure by the same owner, eating a late dinner in the diner across the way, casting glances to the club every now and again. He sits on the edge of his bed, cut discarded on the chair, looking up at the clock and watching the hands tick by.

Juice is buzzing, feels sparks flowing through his entire body, right down to the ends of finger tips. He’s in a good mood tonight, alleviated by a few drinks in him too. He always feels good on stage, and he’s aware it’s cheesy, but he really loses himself in his performance, barely has to think but somehow makes it into an art form. In fact, he almost doesn’t realise the man from a few days ago has walked in, is standing looking out of place and staring wide eyed at him. God. Good.

Juice hurries over to the man as soon as he gets off stage, laughing as he approaches him, “You look like a lost puppy!” He takes Chibs’ hands in his, and he feels reluctance there, feels some protest, but it melts away as quickly as it came. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come, if you'd pass through again,” He sits the man down in a booth that offers them some semblance of privacy, and sits beside him, pressed close up against the older man’s body. He’s crowding him, but all Chibs can think about is how genuine his smile is, how excited the boy looks, as if he was really looking forward to seeing him. He doesn’t get it.

“You enjoy the show?” Juice has no idea what’s going through Chibs’ mind, all he knows is that he’s had yet to speak and the way he’s staring at Juice’s lips makes his skin tingle. That must be a good sign surely? His tongue darts out ever so slightly to lick lightly over his lip, and when the man all but shudders at the sight, Juice hums and inches ever closer.

“Ain’ half bad,” Chibs says, _finally,_ looking away. He’s confused, to tell the truth, feels as if he’s on the edge of lashing out and throwing the boy off him, the tense feeling in the air almost unbearable. He shrugs, “Seen better.”

Juice stares at him a moment before he snorts, almost falling back in laughter, shaking his head as he calms down, “Still as smooth as your last visit, I see. You really know how to make a boy feel good about himself,” He raises his brow, raising a finger to tap against his temple, “I know what I gotta do to sweeten you up though, don’t you worry. Hopefully we’ll have enough whiskey that you’ll give me a smile sometime soon.”

The mouth on this kid! He just doesn’t shut up but instead of being pissed off there’s something about it that’s incredibly funny, makes Chibs let out a small chuckle, which is only met with a triumphant grin from Juice as he stands up, “Give me a moment.” Chibs isn’t ashamed to say he ogles his ass as he walks to the bar to get their drinks, but the fact that he’s doing so makes him squirm uncomfortably, even more so when he looks around and see trucker type guys being grinded on by other young men. He’ll need that drink soon or else reality will catch up with him and he’ll end up killing someone.  
  
But before he flips the table Juice comes back with the drinks and that grin of his, and Chibs flicks his gaze over the tray of shots, quirking up a brow when Juice sits again.

Juice mirrors him, raising his brow too, “What? Scared of a few shots, old man?”

“Already had a few in ya, ain’t ya lad?” The words almost drawl out of his mouth, but there’s a smirk to his lips which is all Juice needs for encouragement.

“That _may_ or may _not_ be true,” Laughter bubbles under Juice’s voice, as it almost always seems to be, before he scoots up to Chibs, “but don’t you worry. You get tired of the vodka I’ve got your whiskey too.” He picks up a glass and gives Chibs a brazen smile, waiting for him to raise his own.

Chibs grunts but picks his vodka up too, tilting his head. He scrunches his nose slightly; taking shots of vodka is a young man’s game really. “As long as you pull through on that whiskey.” Still, he’s not one to be affronted by drinking challenges, and he catches a glimpse of a last look Juice gives him before they both throw back their drinks.

Juice doesn’t know what it is about this guy that he likes. It’s easy to say what caught his attention, those scars of his, his accent that he’s been trying to work out for a while now. But just _why_ he wants to see him more…he’s not sure. Well, that’s not quite true, at the moment he just wants to see if he can get into his pants.

“So what’s your name then? Between drinking and insulting me, you haven’t said.”

“Chibs,” He’s not sure what to think about the kid being all up in his space the way he is, but by how hazy his eyes are, and how he sways in place slightly, he can tell his few inhibitions have been dropped, “You’re Juice, right?”

Juice nods, eyes fixed on Chibs (what a strange name, but he supposes he can’t really talk), “Yeah, that’s right. Made a bit of a name for myself in here. Lucky I’m free for you.”

“Oh!” Chibs snorts at that, raising his brows, “So it’s an _honour_ sittin’ here with ya?” He lifts another glass, as if toasting, “I’ll drink to that.”

Juice purses his lips but he doesn’t manage to hide his amusement, lifts his drink too and clinks it with Chibs’, before they both take the shot.

“You really like your drink, huh Chibs?” He says with a chuckle, tilting his head.

“Could say the same about you. Bet you’ve lost count of how much you had.”

“I was never much good at maths, anyway. You drop off your little amazon package okay then?”

“According to plan.” He’d rather not talk about it, it’s boring. But then again, what is he doing in a place like this talking to a boy like Juice? And why is he talking to Chibs, for that matter? If what he said is true, and he doesn’t doubt it, he’s sure there’s plenty money he could be earning else where and not just through getting someone to buy drinks.

Juice watches as Chibs gets lost in his thoughts. He’s a strange one, and that’s not to say he hasn’t come across strange guys before; all sorts pass through here, some less savoury than others, but the fact that he hasn’t for a private room, or pulled him into his lap, makes Juice think that he really…isn’t used to this sort of stuff. Not that that deters him, he’s had a ‘straight’ dick in him plenty of times.

Chibs frowns, squinting at his last shot of vodka, and really he’d prefer some whiskey but he isn’t one to waste, so he drinks it up, letting out a little hiss as he places the empty glass back on the table.

“Why they call you Juice?” He asks. Stupidly. He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth.

Juice’s mouth drops open, but _still_ the tips of his lips manage to curl in that smile of his, “Have you _seen_ my ass?” Before he gives Chibs the chance to respond Juice stands and turns, his back facing the man, “You can take a peek if you like.” He peers at Chibs over his shoulder, his hands running down his sides before he cups his own cheeks. He smiles, letting out a little hum as he reaches to take one of Chibs’ hands, moving it to place on his ass, “You can see for yourself if it deserves the name.”

He presses back into Chibs’ hand and Chibs’ eyes widen. He swallows, something akin to nerves settling in his stomach, but he doesn’t for one moment consider letting the opportunity pass. He hums and raises his other hand, at which Juice immediately grins at.

“You like that?” He asks with a chuckle, pushing into his touch even more, voice softer, “You can’t tell me you’ve seen better than _this.”_

Chibs just grunts, doesn’t want to give Juice the satisfaction of a response, knows that he’d have to agree with him. Instead he tightens his hold and begins groping his ass, feeling through his boxers, the sudden grip making Juice let out a gentle gasp. He begins to move to the music, hips swaying this way and that. He pulls away from Chibs ever so slightly, just to test him out, giggling when the man tugs him back quickly. Chibs can only see a glimpse of his face, but enough that he can see his smug expression. He’d like to wipe that smile right off his face, and his gropes grow harsher, kneading roughly at his cheeks. Juice lets out a quiet moan, coaxing an almost growled hum from low in Chibs’ throat, as he pulls him to stand closer between his legs. He laughs breathlessly at that, moves even further back and down to rub against Chibs’ crotch, before he suddenly stands straight again and whips round to face him.

“You don’t know the rules, do you?” He asks with an infuriating grin, “Skipped a few levels and went straight to feeling me up. _Naughty…”_

Chibs sneers at that, the taste he got leaving him wanting more, barely able to keep his hands back, voice grumbled, “Teasin’ piece of shit…”

“There’s that charm again,” He isn’t offended, knows that he’s riled Chibs up and he likes the affect he’s had on him, especially since he seems like such a macho kinda guy. It does wonders to Juice’s ego. He wonders how far he can push it.

“You didn’t even pay me…”

“I’m paying for all those drinks, aren’t I?” Chibs’ reaching hands are swatted away amidst giggles that ring in his ears.

“That’s true…” Juice breathes, and as if to calm the raging beast he reaches out to brush some stray hair out of Chibs’ face, “but I don’t dance with naughty boys. But tell you what-“ fingers run gently along the man’s jawline, sitting under his chin and forcing him to lift his head, to come closer.

“-because this was your first time, and I like you so much…tonight was on the house. And next time you come we’ll start again, okay?” He grins, white teeth shining like the Cheshire Cat’s, “you _are_ coming again, aren’t you?”

If Chibs had the cognitive ability to think about anything except how much he misses the feeling of Juice’s ass in his hands, he’d wonder just how he got here and what it all meant for him. As things stand, however, he can’t do much else than close his mouth and swallow, before nodding slowly, leaning back in his seat.

“…Good…” Juice smiles, watching the man intently before he steps away and picks up the tray of empty glasses, “Now, I better run along. I’ll be seeing you soon though, Chibs.”

And without another word, he’s gone. Chibs stares into space a while after, only roused from his reverie when some blond comes to sit with him, causing a less than pleasant reaction from Chibs, who practically pushes the guy away before he pays for the drinks and leaves. He casts one last glance to the club just as he steps through the door, but he doesn’t see Juice. He didn’t even get that promised whiskey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is appreciated guys !! i felt a little shaky with this chapter but here it is


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Juice and Chibs touch upon sore subjects in the other.

The next time he rides back down that lonely road to the strip joint is at the end of the month. And that’s no coincidence, his wallet is considerably fuller with the month’s pay, or at least it’s not in the state that he’ll have to dig through coins and dead moths to pay for the drinks Juice kept serving him. _Juice…_ It’s strange that he even is going back. He didn’t give his word, and besides that, an outlaw like him knows honour only goes to a certain extent. The boy hadn’t even crossed that mind all that much, he’d only thought of him when the gang had more or less forced a bunch of vodka shots down Half-Sack at a party, and then again when Gemma handed him his envelope. He leaves his cut behind again.

He’s working the bar when Chibs comes in, and Juice doesn’t even see him at first, is chatting up another man actually, whispering sweet things into his ear that mean nothing. In fact, it’s only when a colleague of his motions towards Chibs that Juice notices, his friend stealing the client’s hat and thus his attention, putting it on his own head before he pulls him away to leave Juice in peace. Juice sighs in relief and reminds himself to thank Kevin later, before he props his hands on the bar, hoisting himself up and directing a big, bright grin towards Chibs, which catches his attention pretty fast.

Juice only lowers himself when Chibs has sat down in front of him, and _maybe_ it’s a slightly vain move on his part, wants Chibs to get a view of his muscular arms, though when he thinks about it he doubts he’s into that at all. He doesn’t understand the slight flutter in his stomach upon seeing him, but he ignores it for now, that grin having barely dimmed down from the floodlight it was, “Was worried you’d forgotten about me.”

“With a gob like yours, how could I forget?” Even Chibs has to wonder just why he’s always quick with the insults, a slight frown knitting his brow as he watches Juice pour two shots of vodka. _This again…_

 _”Ooh!_ You like my mouth then?” Juice raises his brows, lifting his glass as Chibs does the same, “Looks even better wrapped around a nice cock, trust me.”

Chibs isn’t one to be affronted by things, but at the sudden…nugget of information, he almost chokes on his shot, clearing his throat as he places the empty glass down and gathers himself.

“You promised me whiskey last time. Does that mean I get a double tonight?”

Juice rolls his eyes but he definitely hadn’t missed the man’s reaction, takes it as a victory and his smug little smile says as much as he fetches a bigger glass, “Can’t run anything past you, huh?”

“Just like getting what I’m due,” He responds with a smile.

Juice hums and fills the glass with whiskey, raising his brows as he passes the drink over, “I’d be careful saying things like that. Know what they say about bad karma and all.”

“Aye!” Chibs laughs, already lifting the glass to his lips to take a sip, “What goes around, comes around. But I’m a slippery fella.”

A chuckle slips through Juice’s lips, and it’s funny how such a gruff looking man can convey happiness so richly, finds that he likes it a lot. He nudges his head towards him, “What’s with your name then? Almost as weird as mine, but at least I’ve got a reason.”

It’s almost like a dark cloud passes over Chibs’ face, the man freezing for a split second, glass still raised as he takes the question in. As the moments tick by even Juice realises he’s done something wrong, though what exactly he’s not quite sure, and his grip on the whiskey bottle tightens ever so slightly, his smile dimming. Chibs finishes off the rest of his drink and puts the glass down with a gentle sight.

“ _Chib_ is a Scottish word for knife,” he taps one of the deep scars running along his cheek, “needn’t go into detail why they call me that, do I?”

Juice swallows and shakes his head, and honestly it’s the first time that he’s been thrown off in such a way. He doesn’t know what to do, has never been in such a situation before, and his mind desperately tries to think of a solution, like an old computer whirring into life.

Chibs watches him a while before he taps his empty glass, “That whiskey, lad.”

“Oh!” Juice immediately jumps into action, like a mechanical toy being brought back to life now that he’s been given something to do, and quickly refills Chibs’ drink, his confidence ebbing back, as well as a subject to change the conversation to.

“There’s a really nice Harley parked up outside,” He says with a smile, “Looks to be a Dyna.”

It would be a lie to say Chibs isn’t…pleasantly surprise, both at the subject and Juice’s knowledge, “It’s a Dyna Street Bob actually.”

He frowns in confusion at that, but suddenly in a split second his mouth drops open as he lets out a gasp, eyes widening as realisation strikes him, “It’s _your_ bike?”

Now Chibs smiles, nodding as he lets out a nod. Juice actually gasps again.

“No way! No _way!_ God, I should have guessed!” And it’s funny because all pretence drops, and Juice suddenly isn’t just a pretty face selling his body, but someone who’s genuinely excited, an almost childlike wonder lighting up his eyes, voice near breathless. Chibs ignores how his heart beats faster at the sight. “It’s _beautiful…_ how long have you been riding? How big’s the engine?”

He chuckles, Juice’s enthusiasm clear in his voice and very being, “Been riding as long as I can remember. It’s 1450cc, though you’d think it was bigger by the way it roars. You like bikes then, kid?”

Juice snorts, “Fuck! I’m _obsessed_ with them! I’ve always liked the Dynas, there’s just something about them. Though I’ve never seen one in real life before.”

“You ride too then?”

And it’s almost like his balloon had been punctured, with his change of expression, and Chibs finds himself wishing he’d never asked, though the gentle blush that lights up Juice’s features almost makes up for it, “Oh uh… _nah_ …” Juice chuckles, hand raising to smooth a hand over his head (Chibs still wonders just what drove the boy to get such a drastic looking cut), “no. Don’t even have a car license. But I’d love to, always wanted to…”

Chibs shrugs, nose scrunched slightly, “Never know. Maybe you will some day.”

That provokes a short, airy laugh from Juice, something which sounds like an almost bitter scoff, “Yeah…some day…” He doubts it. He never thinks about his future, not anymore, and even if he would, he sure as hell knows there’s no room for any motorcycle riding in it. Now it’s Chibs’ turn to resent the silence, and as he nurses his whiskey he wonders what could be going through Juice’s mind. But, ever professional, Juice doesn’t allow his mind to stray too far. A smile brightens up his face again, as he refills Chibs’ glass, and Chibs’ misses how fake it looks.

“Give me a moment, yeah?” Juice says, before reaching over the bar to gently grab another boy’s elbow as he walks past, stopping him, “Take him to a room.” The guy nods and Juice pulls away, putting the empty glasses away before giving Chibs’ a wink, “Follow James here, I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Chibs doesn’t get a chance to respond before Juice has moved out from behind the bar and disappeared into the club somewhere, but his attention is dragged to _James,_ who gives his shoulder a tap with a sickly sweet smile, “Follow me.”

He hesitates only for a second, before throwing back the rest of his drink and getting off of the bar stool, following James obediently. He leads Chibs through a bead curtain at the back of the club, a corridor of doors, some with little red love hearts on string hanging off the handles. _Occupied._ He’s brought into an empty one and sat down on a red couch. James smiles at him, and for a moment Chibs thinks there’s two of him, only to realise that it’s a different boy entirely, pressing another glass of whiskey into his hand. James says something about Juice being with him soon, and Chibs only nods before the two of them leave him alone.

It’s barely a second later (or at least it feels that way) when he does finally join him. Juice has left behind his tight polo shirt and jeans, and walks slowly over to him in those tight black boxers he’d seen him in before.

“Hey there, biker boy. Miss me?” His grin cuts through the deep red lights that surrounds him, music from next door thumping through Chibs’ ears and smothering them both in an almost other worldly haze. Juice stands in front of him, reaching out to brush finger tips down Chibs’ arm, “Aren’t you hot? In that leather jacket? Let me help you, baby…” His hands move to prop themselves on the seat either side of Chibs, and before the man can even begin to compute what he’s doing, to even understand the sudden shift in his character, Juice leans in, taking the zip of the jacket between his teeth. He moves down, unzipping Chibs at an agonisingly slow pace. When he’s a little more than half way down his eyes flick up to meet Chibs’, and at the sight of the man staring at him, with his mouth ever so slightly agape, Juice hums, like a cat with a bowl of cream. His hands have slid down the couch to rest on Chibs’ thighs, and he chuckles as he finishes unzipping him. Gentle touch turns harsh as he grips his thighs, pushing his legs wider apart. He rests his head against one, eyes still fixed on Chibs, face so close to his crotch that he can practically feel the boy’s hot breaths through his pants.

A look is all that Chibs needs. He doesn’t move his eyes off of Juice as he leans forward to peel his jacket off and drop it next to him, making Juice grin, voice gentle, “There we go…” He stands up and moves to straddle Chibs’ lap, arms resting lightly, almost indifferently around his neck, “Ain’t that better?” Chibs isn’t given the chance to answer, before Juice starts grinding against him with little rocks of his hips that somehow leave him near breathless. Chibs is lost in some dreamlike state, which is fuzzy at the edges with a warm glow that makes everything swim in and out of focus. It’s only interrupted by whined gasps that fall from Juice’s lips every so often, which makes the muscles in Chibs’ jaw flicker, his hand tightening ever so slightly around his glass.

 _“Oh shit, Chibs!”_ It’s the loudest sound Juice has made so far and the way he moans it out makes the man groan before he can stop himself, a little voice in the back of his head which says, _’He’s good at this.’_ There’s that smile of Juice's that lets him know he considers Chibs’ reaction a win, but it’s quickly obscured from view as he leans in to nuzzle against the crook of his neck. He presses a small kiss at the sensitive skin under his ear, voice hushed and debauched, “You wanna _fuck_ me, Chibs?” The thought sends a shock through the man’s body, only to shudder when Juice gasps wetly against his ear, before he sits up again.

Hands move to hold onto Chibs’ shoulders as Juice looks down at him, head tipping back ever so slightly as he begins to deliver long, deliberate rocks against the man. His soft lips part to let out another gasp, tone desperate, _“Fuck,_ you feel so big, Chibs. I want you to fuck me, need to feel you inside me…” It’s dramatic, but then again, dramatic is Juice’s style, and if this job is one thing then it’s _acting,_ but it’d be a lie to say he wasn’t feeling himself. He doesn’t need to put a lot of effort into pretending, soft whines and moans between his sentences as some of his words twist and raise higher in pitch from his movements.

It pushes all of Chibs’ buttons, it seems, the man trying his very best to bite down how turned on he is and not to rut up against him. He can’t help reaching his free hand out suddenly, quick, grabbing Juice’s ass and squeezing it hard, arousal clear in his voice, “Yeah? You want that big cock in your arse, boy?” His words drop out slurred and thick, while Juice’s come with that carefully calculated effortlessness, grin wide and mischievous as he ruts one more time against him. He swats the man’s hand away and stands up, grinning at him still as he sways to the music, humming along as he steps up and down in front of Chibs, just out of reach. Eventually he twirls around, back facing the man. He wiggles his ass, hands running down to grope it, before he pulls his boxers down just at the back, so the elastic sat under his cheeks and cupped them just so. He looks at Chibs over his shoulder, that infuriating smile curling his lips, swaying this way and that again for a moment, before he moves back and starts rubbing his ass slowly against Chibs’ crotch. The sight is maddening, almost makes Chibs’ mouth water, and before he can help it he reaches round and places a hand on the boy’s smooth chest, pulling him back against him.

“Am I paying for the all inclusive package?”

“Don’t touch the merchandise,” Juice laughs and wriggles free from Chibs’ hold, pulling his boxers back up and turning around. He props each knee either side of Chibs, but doesn’t sit in his lap, leaving the man aching for his touch and pressure. Fingertips run gingerly down his jaw and sit under Chibs’ chin, pulling his head upwards to face him properly. Juice tilts his head, “There’s a no touching rule, big boy. Not unless I give permission. Besides, you haven’t paid me at all yet…”

Chibs is fighting the urge to just grab him and force him down into his lap, but he refrains, knows he has to play along and he reaches for his jacket with his free hand, fishing out his wallet and a few bills. Juice watches him carefully, hips moving ever so slightly to the music like forbidden fruit hanging on a branch in the breeze. He giggles when Chibs tucks a bill into the side of his boxers, thinking a moment before he speaks.

“Give me some of your drink.”

Chibs obeys like it’s all he’s able to do, hand raising until the glass presses against Juice’s lips. He tips it and watches the amber liquid flow into his mouth, some dripping down his chin, throat, chest. Chibs pulls it away and Juice hums happily, wet mouth glistening in the low lights as he smiles down at the man.

“Can I continue now?”

Chibs finishes off the rest of the whiskey and discards the glass, giving a nod, “Aye, and get to it.”

They are words that Chibs almost regrets, because Juice grins, and if Chibs thought his actions were driving him crazy before, they’re nothing compared to the show he puts on for him now. The boy stretches out, torso bare and skin taut, as he begins grinding against him hard and slow, both hands sitting behind his own head, while Chibs’ arms lay across the backrest of the couch. Juice moves one hand to hold the back of Chibs’ neck, but it only stays there a moment, before those butterfly touches dance themselves along his jaw once more, caress his cheeks, brush against his lips. He grins as he slips his fingers into Chibs’ mouth just barely, before he pulls them out with a chuckle.

Chibs stuffs another bill into his boxers and Juice leans in nice and close, mouth agape and hot and smacking of whiskey, so close that Chibs can taste it. Almost. Their lips just brush and when Chibs leans in to try and catch a kiss, Juice stays just out of reach, before he grins and pulls away completely.

“No touching means no kissing either, big boy.”

Chibs grunts and spreads his legs a little more, pushing his hips ever so slightly forward to catch Juice’s rocks against him in a good spot. He finally tears his eyes away from the boy’s face, gaze running lazily down his body, taking in the smoothness of his skin, his tattoos, and his interest catches on one that sits just on the right inner side of his v-line. It’s a simple outline of a hand, holding a $100 note, with the words ‘good boy’ written underneath it.

Juice notices and smiles, “You like it?”

Chibs voice is barely intelligible, so far gone is he, “What’s it mean?” He doesn’t really need to ask.

He lets out a breathless laugh, reaching for one of Chibs’ hands, and brushing the man’s thumb against the tattoo, “Means I only take my payment in hundred dollar bills.”

“You worth that much?”

“You _got_ that much?”

“Won’t even let me touch…”

Juice lets out a gentle laugh at that, shaking his head, “Poor baby…” He should teach him a lesson. Juice pouts and tilts his head, still holding onto Chibs’ hand as he grinds against him, humming a few moments before he speaks finally.

“Maybe if you tell me how much you like me, I’ll let you touch…?”

But Chibs is too proud for that, much too proud despite the fact it’s clear as day just how much he wants Juice, and not just because he’s rock hard underneath the boy. He takes out a $100 bill, and tucks it deep into Juice’s pants, slowly putting his hand out. He gives the boy a filthy grin, “Easier if I just showed you.”

Juice doesn’t manage to hide the shiver that goes through him, though his smile disappears and he stares at the man a split second, before he lets out a sigh, as if disappointed. _Keep them wanting more…_

“Not what I asked...”

And Chibs can’t do a fucking thing to stop Juice from standing once more with a cheeky grin, much too quick and slipping easily from Chibs’ attempted grasp.

“Such a shame too,” He breathes, reaching to run a his hand along Chibs’ neck, “we were just starting to have some fun…” Their time was just about up, anyway.

Chibs stares in disbelief, uncomfortably hard in his pants, gaze hungry and eating the boy up, looking as if he’s about to pounce and force him to do his bidding. Good. Juice prefers it this way. He’s used to desire and lust and carnal needs, much more than he is about talking about motorcycles and thinking about his future.

“Better luck next time, hm Chibs?” And there it is. _Next time._ Voice so secure and sure that there will in fact be a next time, and not that Chibs will realise what he’s doing and try and forget all this ever happened. Juice stares at him quietly for a few moments, before he leans in, pausing just before his lips. Again, he doesn’t kiss, but his tongue darts out quick to brush over Chibs’ lips, before he pulls back again with a gentle laugh. And, like a pleasant dream slipping from a woken mind, he’s gone.

Chibs almost flings the empty glass at the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want a reference photo for Juice's tattoo, here you go ->
> 
> https://68.media.tumblr.com/d7975feb9827c588853ab426d325c602/tumblr_opr79aG0OE1uwz8exo1_540.jpg
> 
> besides that, a song i quite like is 'take shelter' by years and years. i prefer the unplugged version, but the original goes better with the vibe of the fic of course. don't look into the lyrics too much, you might see them applying to Juice


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'It terrifies him that he can read Juice so well already.'
> 
> -
> 
> Chibs begins feeling protective over Juice

It’s nothing like last time, when Chibs barely thought about the boy, only saw him in flashes here and there but for the most part he was left in peace. _Now,_ it’s different. Now there’s barely a moment when he isn’t thinking about him. If it was just thoughts about the feeling of his ass in his hands, the boy grinding against him, then it wouldn’t be so bad. Then at least he could fold it away as lust. But he sees his smile, bright and genuine, hears his laughter ringing in his ears. He remembers how excited he was when talking about his bike, remembers how he seemed to turn into someone else completely. He doesn’t understand it, and it make him uncomfortable.

It’s a good job his brothers rarely pry into his private business, because soon he’s riding down that lonely road again, until the broken, humming lights of the motel come into sight. He parks up, hands immediately raising out of habit to brush his cut straight, only to remember he’s left it behind again. He enters the club and sits by the bar, ordering a drink and trying not to make it too obvious that he’s looking for someone, eyes furtively scanning the area. _Where is he…?_

“Excuse me?” Chibs turns at the sound of the voice, frowning when he’s faced with a shy looking guy, who gives him a nervous smile, “Are you here for Juice?”

He doesn’t like the sound of that. It makes it sound like he’s some product at a store, and Chibs is just another client, though when it comes down to it…that is all they are, isn’t it? He nods and the other grins gently, “He’s busy right now. But if you come with me to a room you can wait for him?” Chibs doesn’t look pleased, but he finishes off his drink and stands to follow the boy back through the beaded curtain, into a private room.

“You want me to keep you company while you wait?”

Chibs’ jaw clenches and he shakes his head, but the boy isn’t offended at all, smiles kindly instead, “Just sit tight then. I’ll bring you a drink. Another whiskey?”

These people are going to bankrupt him and destroy his liver all at the same time, but he isn’t one to turn anything down, so he nods and watches him leave. He comes back soon enough and passes him his drink, assuring him that Juice will be with him soon, and leaves Chibs alone again.

He sips idly at his whiskey as he waits, and finds he doesn’t like being left alone here, with his thoughts, because it makes it all that much more _real._ He isn’t interested in men, not at all, fuck, he’s a Son for Christ’s sake. He can admit Juice has a good body, sure, and that the kid certainly knows how to use it, and it wouldn’t be so bad if that’s all it was. But there’s something else too…something that makes something other than lust stir in him, and he _hates_ it.

He’s just on the verge of leaving when Juice finally enters, and Chibs relaxes into his seat. His calm state disappears as soon as Juice gets close though, Chibs’ brows raising at the look of him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting so long, big boy.” Juice is grinning but it looks tacked on, his eyes half lidded, not in bliss or lust or even intoxication, but out of simple _tiredness._ It terrifies him that he can read Juice so well already.

“Lets get started, huh?” Juice is ever so slightly rushed, straddles Chibs much like he did last time, and to anyone else everything would seem normal, but despite Juice’s trained rocks and thrusts, there’s no way he’s actually into it at all. Not that it matters if he is or not, technically. It’s his job after all. Chibs doesn’t know what to do, lets him continue for a moment before he reaches out to hold his waist, stopping his movements.

Juice thinks he’s playing around at first and chuckles, but when he sees Chibs’ expression, and realises he’s not letting him move, his eyes widen as worry and fear begins to set in. He clenches and unclenches his jaw, before he finally speaks.

“Sorry. I’m sorry, Chibs. Give me a moment, yeah? I’ll show you a good time, I promise,” He smiles that sickly smile of his, a shallow copy of the genuine one, “I’ll do good. You know you can trust me.” He tries grinding against him again.

“You’re tired.”

“I’m okay. I’m fine.”

Chibs wonders how many clients he’s already been with tonight, wonders about the different kind of characters he gets. He knows this isn’t the most…legitimate of places, knows Juice’s boss would allow anyone to do just about anything to him so long they paid good money.

“Have you eaten?”

Juice actually pauses himself at that, frowns in confusion down at Chibs, before he lets out an awkward chuckle, not quite sure what the man is getting at.

“I told you, I’m _fine._ I’m _okay,”_ He smiles, “You don’t wanna take what you didn’t get last time?”

Chibs doesn’t budge. Juice feels something like the beginnings of panic settle in his chest.

“Look, don’t be mad, yeah? Please? I-I’ll give you a discount, suck you off, whatever. Just let me take care of you.”

The sight sends a pang through Chibs’ heart, and he doesn’t understand it. All he knows is that he doesn’t want this right now. All he knows is that Juice shouldn’t be doing this. He scowls, contorting his already harsh features, finishing off his whiskey before he moves Juice off him, the boy sitting beside him instead.He’s fucked up, hasn’t he? Juice chides and curses himself mentally, tries to keep his breathing level because he’s _fucked up,_ and the one thing he’s actually good at has fallen through. He doesn’t even know why the prospect of disappointing Chibs affects him so, just that any lick of his usual confidence has disappeared.

“I haven’t either. Eaten that is,” Chibs says eventually, and he tries to ignore how Juice flinches at the sound of his voice, “let’s go get something, ay lad?”

Juice stares up at Chibs in disbelief, absolutely still save for his gaze which flicks frantically over the man, to try and locate the trick, the danger, but he can’t find anything. Eventually his shoulders slump, tension falling from his body, exhaustion in every tiny movement, before he stands.

“Wait here. I’ll go get dressed.”

He leaves and tries not to think about what just happened, keeps his mind blank and his body on autopilot as he goes to a dressing room and slips into his clothes. He pauses for a moment, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Does he look bad? Is that why Chibs stopped him? He was cultured in this place to be vain and put a great deal of importance in his appearance, and the fact that he might not actually be pretty is crushing. He shakes his head and heads back, giving Chibs a weak smile. Maybe he’ll just take him to the motel to fuck.

They leave the club and Juice’s gaze slips slowly to the bike, staring at it as they walk past, and he can’t help but smile gently at the sight of it.

“You won’t get in trouble? Leaving the club like this?” Chibs mumbles, trying to pretend he doesn’t care at all.

Juice turns to look up at him in slight surprise, so lost in his thoughts was he with staring at the bike, before he hums and shakes his head, “No. They’ll just think you’re taking me to your room…” And there’s a slight questioning tone to his voice, as if that’s what he expects Chibs to do. Chibs feels a bit sick at that, tries not to think about all the men who’ve taken him to a dirty motel room for a quick fuck, practically marching to the diner, Juice having to quicken his step to keep up.

They step in and Juice looks around like he’s stepped into an alien spaceship, so confused he looks at the situation. It’s not that he hasn’t eaten here before. Sure he does, when he’s left enough cash and has the strength to come here, but he’s never been…taken here. He’s never been taken out to eat in his life, now that he thinks about it. They sit at a table and Juice sits with his hands in his lap, fidgeting nervously with the hem of his shirt as he steals furtive glances at Chibs. Just what is going on?! He can’t work out his game, his motives at all, and it’s infuriating. He’d rather just have him bend him over the table then sit and eat with him. At least then he’d know how to behave.

“I’ll pay,” Chibs says, and Juice closes his mouth, was about to mention that he doesn’t have any cash on him. Chibs peers at the menu (he needs his glasses really), gaze flicking over the different items. It’s a funny sight. They look less like a stripper and client, more like a father meeting up with his estranged son, having been away for so long he doesn’t know how to behave with him, doesn’t know what ‘kids like him’ like to eat. After a little persuasion Juice asks for a grilled cheese and cola, while Chibs gets a large burger and fries (he wasn’t lying when he said he hadn’t eaten).

When the food comes Juice practically wolfs it down, and maybe it’s because he’s too tired to try and resist needs anymore, but he only realises what he’s doing when he glances up and sees Chibs smirking in amusement. Juice blushes gently, picking up a napkin to wipe at his mouth, but he can’t help but let out a little chuckle, Chibs laughing with him.

“Really were hungry. Or do you just have a healthy appetite?”

“Bit of both,” Juice muses, unable to fight back a little smile as he takes a few sips at his cola. He glances out of the window, eyes fixing on the bike again. He didn’t realise how big they actually are, always just had pictures of various Harleys when he was younger.

“You like it a lot, don’t ya lad?”

Juice looks back at Chibs, pausing a moment before he nods slightly, voice soft, “Yeah…Did you customise it yourself?”

Chibs hums, “Aye. Work in a garage. What makes you say that?”

He chuckles, shrugging, “Dunno…exhausts are covered. And I haven’t seen a Dyna without the front fairing. The Z-bars too, but then again, I’m not familiar with Street Bobs.”

He knows a strange amount for someone who’s never ridden before, never would have guessed that Juice had a grasp on these kind of things, but he seems to be much more than just a pretty face. Chibs scoffs, “You sure know your bikes, kid.”

Juice snorts at that and shrugs again, looking out again, “Yeah well, loved them since I was little, you know? I put those things on the spokes of my bicycle so it would make a noise, would pretend I was a big man on a big motorbike. I probably looked like a dick,” He grins, chuckling gently, “I had posters in my room, one big Harley one at the head of my bed that I stole from a garage. I didn’t even have any fucking porno mags like other boys, just motorbike times!” He laughs loudly at the memory and shakes his head. He crosses his arms and rests them on the table top as he settles, smile faltering ever so slightly. He was so young back then, so different, everything felt possible with only the sky as his limit, and even then he doubts he would have let the sky hold him back. He never would have guessed he’d end up in a place like this. Chibs watches him and his own smile had fallen long before Juice’s. He’s not a weak man, not one to let emotions get to him, but the story is near heart breaking. He clenches his jaw and tears his gaze away from Juice, looking out of the window too.

“Hey Chibs?” He doesn’t know how much time has passed, but the gentle voice snaps him back to reality, turning back to Juice, “Is it okay if we go to your room?” Juice chuckles nervously, “I’m worried I may get caught out here, not working and all.”

Chibs raises his brows at that, before he frowns and nods, getting his (barely touched) burger and fries wrapped up to take along, before the two head over to the motel. There’s someone else on the desk this time, a woman, and she barely gives them a second glance as she gives Chibs the key. They’re quiet as they head up, Chibs is tired himself, to tell the truth, but it’s not like the silence between them is uncomfortable in any way. Chibs places the food on the small desk, only to find Juice more or less pressed up against him when he turns around, making his breath hitch. Juice takes his hands in his gently, leading the man to sit on the edge of the bed. Juice takes his shirt off, smiling as he wraps his arms around Chibs’ neck and straddles his lap, wasting no time in grinding against him, slowly, slightly clumsy, the only sound their breaths and the white noise from the motel.

“You wanna take my jeans off for me, big boy?”

“What are you doing here?” The question is so sudden it surprises Chibs almost as much as it surprises Juice, who freezes in his movements, that smile still stuck on his face, as he stares down at the man. Eventually he lets out a chuckle, confused.

“What?”

Chibs barely knows what he means himself, “What are you doing here? In a place like this?” There’s such sheer rawness in his voice, in his look, that Juice’s very foundations are shaken, looks as if a bucket of cold water has been thrown over him. The boy clenches and unclenches his jaw for a few moments, before he looks away to the side with a sigh, still for a while then shaking his head. He’s lost for today. He’s had enough. He slips off of Chibs’ lap and crawls onto the middle of the bed, drawing his legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, chin sitting on his knees.

“I dunno what you’re talking about, Chibs.” He sounds so tired, no fight in his voice at all, like he’s struggling to string sentences together and keep his eyes open.

“You’re not stupid. You don’t just talk about bikes like someone who likes bikes. You talk about bikes like you’re smart,” Juice is quick with his words and Chibs would have to be a fool to not see his intelligence, but Juice just scoffs and actually closes his eyes, shoulders slumping.

“I’m not all that. Really.”

“Why don’t you just leave?” Chibs doesn’t get it, not really. He knows the kind of world hookers live in, knows that being one is a form of social death, even knows how they get sucked up into the world, but he doesn’t understand why Juice just doesn’t _go,_ leave it all behind him. Maybe that’s naivety on his behalf, “How come you haven’t left?”

The corner of Juice’s lips quirks up into the slightest smirk, and he sways ever so gently on the spot, his eyes still closed, letting out a hum as he thinks over Chips’ question, “It’s all I know. Been here almost as long as I can remember.” But…

“I did try to leave. Once.”

There’s something that sounds almost like impatience in Chibs’ voice, “And?”

Juice laughs gently and shrugs, repeating after him, “And?” But when he peeks an eye open and sees Chibs’ expression, he closes his eye again with a sigh and shrugs.

“There was this guy who used to come here a lot. He was a trucker and his route always passed through here. I was his favourite and my dumb fucking ass actually fell for him,” He snorts and gives a shake of his head, as if chiding his past self, “Promised he’d take me away from all this. From ‘this life,’ and of course I believed him. _So_ one night he packs me up in his truck and we’re on our merry way.” He chuckles, “Except he wasn’t as nice as I thought he was. Jesus, looking back he was crazy. Obsessive, you know? Kept mumbling all this shit, kept like…making me do stuff.” He shrugs, “Mean I guess I owed him. He was taking me away and all, and I didn’t have anything else to give him other than my body, right?”

A pause, as if thinking, before he hums, “I ran away once, when we stopped at a service station, but he caught me,” Juice grins, “he broke my fucking leg, man. So I couldn’t go again. It’s hard to get fucked on a broken leg, let me tell you. God, it got unbearable, living nightmare. Stayed a while but when I healed up enough I got him drunk and fucked out and snuck the key from him to get out of the room we were staying in. It was the scariest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Hitch hiked all the way back to club, didn’t have anywhere else to go. I’m lucky I got taken back. Running away like that? Then coming back looking like shit? I had to beg but I got taken back. Wouldn’t leave again. Not ever.”

Chibs doesn’t know what to say. His stomach had twisted and untwisted throughout the entire story, and he only notices now that his jaw and fists are clenched, as if ready to jump to the boy’s defence, as if he could somehow change his past at all. He takes a moment or so to be able to clear his head, even manage to form words.

“How old were you?”

Juice lifts his head at the sudden break of silence, eyes open again, “Oh…” He shrugs, humming, “Like…around 16 or 17 I think. Not sure.”

“Christ.”

“I was fucking dumb.”

Juice glances nervously at Chibs, but the man isn’t even looking at him so he lets his eyes settle. He shouldn’t have told him, to tell the truth. He doesn’t know _why_ he told him but…it felt good? In a strange way. He doesn’t get it. He wants to get Chibs to smile at him again though. He springs back into life, reaching a leg out to nudge Chibs’ side with his foot to make him turn.

“We were like half way to Alaska. Wanted me to live in his weird little cabin and wait for him all year round while he trucks the fucking country,” He stares at Chibs before he grins, chuckle in his voice, “Alaska?! I would’ve frozen my goddamn balls off playing wifey!” He laughs and after a moment even Chibs can’t hold back a grin, both of them sitting and laughing about a kidnapping like idiots in a dirty motel room.

Chibs convinces Juice to finish his burger and fries, and eventually the boy falls asleep, curled up in the bed. Chibs remains sitting on the edge of the bed, glancing at him every now and again. He looks so different sleeping, so different from the pretty hooker from the bar, soft and vulnerable that sends a conflict of emotions through him. In the morning he shakes his shoulder gently, until Juice wakes to a drowsy, half lucid state. He presses some bills into his hand, tells him to get himself breakfast before heading back to the club. Juice barely reacts, he's so tired, fights to keep his eyes open and nods, looking up at Chibs from under his eyelashes. Chibs clenches and unclenches his jaw a few moments, before reaching down to hold Juice's chin firmly, startling Juice ever so slightly.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Chibs mumbles, not putting much thought to what the words mean, just knowing how they feel. Juice doesn't move, chest rising and falling ever so slightly with deep, sleepy breaths. Eventually he smiles, and it's lazy and small but it makes a warm glow spread through Chibs' body he doesn't understand. Juice nods and Chibs nods too, and in a few seconds Juice drifts off to sleep again. Chibs heads out and pays for the room, and tries not to think about the events of the night on his ride back to Charming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont know anything about bikes but that wont stop me indulging myself with angsty back stories
> 
> you know in the show whenever anyone asks juice if hes feeling alright or about his feelings in general he just brushes it off immediately and grins and says he's okay??? breaks my heart everytime smh
> 
> if ppl are interested i could write what happened to juice with that trucker dude as a one shot kinda thing, just let me know. i mean it'll literally just be bricks of angst stacked ontop of eachother but whatever i got u


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chibs is troubled by the thought of Juice and the possible existence of his feelings towards him.

Chibs can’t get the boy out of his mind. He thinks about his smile, about how quickly he’d eaten his sandwich, the bags under his eyes. He works on cars in the garage and thinks about how Juice never got the opportunity to get a license, sees his excitement in the sun shining off the chrome on his bike. He thinks about the way he slept, like he didn’t have anything to worry about, like he was safe from anything that would pass by his sleeping form, as if no one would hurt him. He thinks about his laughter and all the pain he’s felt, about other things he must have been through. He can’t stand it, he can’t fucking stand it, doesn’t understand the swirling mess of emotions within him and there’s no way in _hell_ he’s going to try and make sense of the conflict. Even the club has noticed something’s up, but they have no idea what it is. Chibs is snappier than usual, and most of the members have enough respect of him to leave him alone when he asks. Tig’s the only one that keeps at it, provokes and takes the piss out of him for the fun of it, to the point where the two scrap. Bobby pulls them apart and tells Tig to fuck off, and thankfully he actually does (even if it’s with another mocking comment that almost gets Chibs swinging at him again). It’s funny in a way, because it’s Bobby that tells Chibs what he needs to cool his head. _”Midnight bike ride and a good hard fuck.”_ He takes it as a sign. The Lord works mysterious ways, as they say. At first thought that strip joint on that lonely road is the last place he wants to be, but soon he’s driving off towards it, cut left behind.

It’s been similar for Juice, to tell the truth. Whenever he has a spare moment, the man is almost always on his mind. Not everyone who comes through is cruel or uncaring. Some are gentle and even loving, some miss affection and try to find it in him, but Chibs…Chibs is just _weird._ He’s down right strange and Juice can’t work out what he wants. It makes him a little nervous, to tell the truth. He much prefers it when he knows what he’s doing, when he can just switch off and deliver and not have to think about it anymore. The last words Chibs said to him are still ringing in his head.

Chibs goes straight to the bar when he walks into the club. He’s almost pleased he doesn’t see Juice there, needs to get a few drinks down him to clear his mind, shut up all the thoughts he’s having. He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting there, but it’s long enough that the reflections of the lights in the bottles begin to wash together, and it takes him a moment to respond to the gentle tap to his shoulder. He turns to see him, actually dressed for once.

“Hey,” Juice smiles at him gently, gaze flicking over Chibs’ features. He feels happy to see him, and he doesn’t quite understand why, but he takes it in his stride; a little happiness goes a long way in a place like this.

"Hey,” Chibs repeats back, looking back at his glass. There’s something amiss, and Juice can’t quite tell what it is, but he pushes it away for now.

“…You…wanted to see me?”

Chibs nods, throwing back the rest of his drink, before he stands from his barstool, “Aye. Lets go to a room.”

Straight to business then. Juice grins and nods, reaching down to take one of Chibs’ hands, beginning to lead him to the back.

“No,” Chibs pulls his hand out of Juice’s hold, making the boy turn and look at him with raised brows, “motel.”

Juice’s eyes widen ever so slightly, and for a split second he looks confused, almost torn, before he snaps back into his role and gives Chibs a grin, nodding, but he doesn’t reach for his hand again as they leave the club. They’re walking across and Juice’s gaze falls to the bike again, but when he looks at Chibs the man isn’t smiling in return, isn’t even looking at him and almost walks as if he’s not there. He bites his lip, reaching out to tug at Chibs’ shirt.

“What’s up, baby? Something wrong?”

Chibs clenches his jaw, “Headache.”

He laughs, quickening his step so he's in front of and facing Chibs, walking backwards. He leans in, voice playful and teasing, “Coz’ I been running around your head _all day_ , right?”

He doesn’t give Juice an answer, just barely glances at him before he looks ahead and past him instead. He’s a little confused over how the man’s acting, to tell the truth. Sure, he hadn’t seemed the most friendly and outgoing of people, but he at least usually _talks_ to Juice in full sentences. He figures he’s had a bad day, is just not in a great mood. Good job he came over then! Because Juice can have him feeling much better. He grins and doesn’t say anything more and moves back to fall in step close beside Chibs. He misses the way Chibs’ jaw clenches, and more or less presses up against the man as they walk.

They get to the motel and get a room and Chibs has _still_ not said anything. Juice watches the man and wonders what to do, but well, he knows why they’ve come here and he isn’t one to waste time, especially since he doesn’t like seeing him look so worked up. He slips out of his shoes before reaching out to Chibs with a smile, chuckles slipping through his lips as he pushes the man to fall onto the bed. He takes a step back and slowly tugs his clothes off, and despite the lack of music Juice somehow still manages to make it look sensual, Chibs staring at him with hungry eyes. He gets onto the bed and crawls up to the man until he’s straddling him, the move fluid and practised. He brushes some hair out of Chibs’ face, letting out a little hum before he smiles and begins to rock against him gently.

He can fuck him and get it over with. He can fuck him and leave and forget him like every crow eater Chibs has ever fucked before. He just needs to get him out of his system and never see or think about him again. He watches Juice with stormy eyes as the boy sways in his lap and unbuttons Chibs’ shirt, tugging it off, before he runs his hands down the man’s chest with a smile, making Chibs’ breath hitch. Delicate fingertips dance up to trace over his shoulders, only for Juice to frown slightly.

“Oh…you’re so tense,” Eyes flick up from Chibs’ chest to his eyes, giving him a smile right before he leans in to brush his lips against his earlobe, voice soft, “relax, yeah? I’ll take care of you.”

Juice slips a hand into Chibs’ underwear and begins stroking him slowly, his lips curling into a smile that Chibs can feel against his neck. “Really are a big boy,” Juice breathes, moving to trail his lips along Chibs’ jaw, giving Chibs’ a harsh tug that makes the man wheeze and Juice giggle. He pulls back to look down at him, reaching to take one of Chibs’ wrists in his hand, lifting it. He hums, tongue darting out to touch the pad of Chibs’ fingertip, before he licks a stripe up along his middle finger just with the tip of his tongue. His mouth drops open ever so slightly, a little whimpered gasp slipping through as he takes his finger in. Plump, wet lips slide slowly up the length of it as he pulls off, then pushing two of Chibs’ fingers into his mouth. He lets out an obscene moan as he begins sucking on his fingers in earnest, gaze settling on Chibs before his eyes begin to flutter closed, as if lost in a cloud of debased ecstasy. Chibs’ chest is heaving by the time he pulls off, and when Juice sticks his tongue to show that he’d managed to suck off one of Chibs’ rings, the man groans.

Juice grins and slips it onto his own finger, before he moves to press messy, open mouthed kisses to Chibs’ neck, down along his throat and further still across his chest, stroking him faster. It’s not only Juice’s careful attention that’s putting Chibs’ on edge, because despite everything his thoughts are still running a mile a minute, even more clamoured. Doing this is supposed to make them all go away, not make them louder, harder to ignore. Fuck, even the idea of reducing Juice down to just another hole to get his dick wet in sends a pang of guilt through his chest and twists his stomach.

"Been wanting to fuck me for a while, hm baby?" Juice whines against his skin, smiling, words slowly dripping out like honey, "been wanting to feel your nice, big cock inside me. You gonna fuck me, Chibs? Gonna fuck me hard?"

He’s been wanting to fuck him from day one, yeah that’s true. He’ll accept that, he’ll take that because fucking is one thing but this…There’s a battle raging in Chibs that he refuses to address, refuses to get into and understand and actually  _think through._  He hates himself for the confusion, for the mess of emotions he’s feeling, hates Juice for making him feel this way with his intoxicating voice and smile and movements and laugh and-

The kiss Juice places on the corner of his lips is what sends him over.

“Stop,” He grunts, jaw clenched, body tense and it’s funny how an action as small as a peck sends his rage boiling like this. Or maybe it’s the tenderness of the sentiment that brings up feelings in him that he’s trying his very best to ignore. Juice lets out a small chuckle, but when he realises Chibs’ discomfort he pulls back, confused, worried.

“Chibs? Chibs, what’s wrong?” The second, barely there kiss to his lips is supposed to comfort him, calm him down, but it does the very opposite. Suddenly Chibs is near shaking, and as if Juice had pulled a knife on him instead of being affectionate, he shoves him roughly off the bed.

“Get the fuck off me!”

“Jesus fuck calm down,” Juice says from the ground, quickly scrabbling up to his feet, “no need to get so mad.”

“Fuck off!”

“I’m going, I’m going!” He’s had this before, many times, so Juice takes it all in his stride, picking up his discarded clothes as quickly as he can and not bothering to pull them on; he doesn’t want to make Chibs any angrier. He knows he’s just feeling conflicted, and surely Chibs can’t mean anything badly by it, not really, not after how gentle and kind he’d been last time, not after what he said. Juice would even go so far as to say that…Chibs is different, or at least he would if he has the confidence too, if his experiences hadn't scared him so. He’ll be patient, he’ll wait for the man until he has worked himself out, and he’d even be glad to help him through it if he likes. Deep down he knows he isn’t important to Chibs, that he’s insignificant, just good for a fuck, but just for a few moments…he’d like to think that the man actually had a soft fondness for him. He’ll come back. _‘Besides,’_ He thinks, holding the stolen ring up in the light as he walks out of the motel in nothing but his boxers, bundle of clothes under his arm, _‘he’ll have to come back to get this.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i felt suuuuuuuuuuuper shaky with this chapter idk why so im sorry if,,,it's not that good im trying i really am smh
> 
> the soa peeps are so emotionally constipated and frustratingly,,,hyper masculine they can barely deal with talking about any sort of feelings and chibs is no better tbh
> 
> but it only gets worse from here kids !!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chibs realises Juice has stolen his ring and refuses to face up to his feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember when i said Bad Shit was coming?? here it is folks
> 
> slight warning for a bit of sexual violence and the use of slurs and all but,,,you'll see

Chibs notices the ring’s missing almost as soon as he gets back to Charming. He’s with some of the others blowing off steam in a bar fight, when he finally pulls back and straightens up from the guy he’s more or less pummelled into the ground. He runs a hand over his knuckles, and feels tender skin where there should be a ring. He looks down, as if his sense of touch could be fooling him and it really is still there, but no, it’s gone. He’s only brought back to reality when Tig gives his shoulder a squeeze and tells him they have to get going. Now that he’s noticed it’s gone though, he can’t stop thinking about it, and it’s almost like the empty space on his finger causes the empty space in his head to fill more and more with anger.

Juice has a spring to his step since the night before and it’s been noticed, his coworkers teasing and prodding, asking if the funny old man with the accent has stolen Juice’s heart. All he does is grin that trademark grin of his, but having his heart stolen? Interest, maybe, but he’s far too smart now to be tricked that easily. Still, a little voice in the back of his mind whispers sweetly to him when he least expects it, _’Chibs is different…’_

He doesn’t have to wait long, because the very next night Chibs comes by the club. Juice sees him immediately and grins, not noticing the anger emanating off the man as he practically marches over to him. When he’s close the storm in his eyes becomes obvious, and Juice’s smile drops in confusion only for his brows to raise in shock as Chibs grabs his shirt and pushes him against the bar.

“Hey-!”

“What the _fuck_ did you do with it?!” Chibs’ rough handling has caught the attention of others, and although behind closed doors almost anything goes with the workers, violence out in the open like this isn’t looked upon so favourably. Scares away customers.

“I dunno what you’re talking about!” Juice lets out a pained yelp as Chibs pulls and then pushes him harshly against the bar, grip tightening on the boy as others begin to come over to intervene.

 _”Don’t_ play your fucking games with me!”

Juice’s gaze flicks quickly over Chibs’ expression, surveying him for danger, but when he’s shoved against the bar again and someone moves to grab the man’s arm, he raises his hands, warding them off, “Okay! It’s okay, it’s okay. I got your ring but you gotta let go of me.”

Chibs hesitates a few moments, but it’s more to prove a point if anything, and when he finally lets go of Juice it’s only because the boy sends a few looks to the others that the man isn’t grabbed and thrown out. He straightens out his shirt and casts a furtive glance to Chibs before he nods, voice somewhat mumbled, “Follow me.”

He isn’t supposed to take clients backstage, and he doesn’t usually, in fact, he never has before. He takes him out back and up some stairs, along a corridor and into a tiny room that’s somewhat cluttered, a few belongings and costumes strewn about, make up covering a vanity mirror. The only ordered thing in the room is the bed, which, albeit small and old, has the covers made to an almost impossibly neat degree. It’s the only thing he can control, really. Juice doesn’t look best pleased, but he goes to a small cabinet and pulls out a draw, sifting through various underwear, jockstraps, panties and the like before he pulls out a small music box at the back. He opens it and pulls out the stolen ring, snatched notes floating into the air before he snaps the box shut again and puts it back.

Chibs watches him with fire in his eyes, and he hates how his gaze slips down his body, how he feels a yearning for the boy deep down that makes bile rise in his throat. He’s close, so close that when Juice turns to face him they’re almost pressed to each other. Juice grins, holding the ring out triumphantly, only to pull it away with a chuckle when Chibs reaches for it, not quite understanding the gravity of the situation. Or perhaps he underestimates the man.

“Did you really come all this way just for some silly _ring?”_ He puts the ring on his own finger and reaches out to run his hands gently down Chibs’ chest, making the man’s breath hitch, “Or was there something else you wanted to see…?”

Chibs has had enough. His lip curls in an ugly sneer, voice almost a snarl, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

Juice raises his brows, but he lets out an obstinate chuckle, hand raising to caress his cheek, “Suddenly you don’t want to be touched-“

Chibs catches his wrist in a vice like grip, leaning close as he practically spits the words, “I said, _don’t_ fucking touch me. I’m no fucking _fag_ like you.”

If Juice is offended, he doesn’t show it, just rolls his eyes instead and laughs gently, “If I had a dollar for every time I got told that…” a disgusting smile curls his lips, “I wouldn’t need to give nice guys like you hard ons for a living.” And before Chibs can even begin to form a response, Juice leans in to press his lips against the man’s, humming at the feeling of the kiss. Chibs melts into it for a split second, one, maybe even two, before his features contort in a horrible scowl and he pushes Juice away from him, hard, making him crash against the cabinet. Chibs gives him another shove before he manages to regain his balance, forcing him to his knees in front of him.

Juice barely struggles, and the fact that he doesn’t almost shocks him, his eyes widening ever so slightly because is he really so used to being pushed around? He’s not an idiot, not blue eyed or naive and he _knows_ this is his job. He _knows_ this is his life and there’s nothing he does better than just taking whatever’s handed out to him, his personal feelings or comfort irrelevant. He _knows_ he has no right to feel offended or hurt but…as he watches Chibs he feels utterly _crushed._ Chibs doesn’t even pull his trousers down, just untucks and tries to ignore the fact that he’s already half hard. Juice definitely notices, but he’s not so dumb that he’ll mention it and incite more of Chibs’ anger. It’s almost as if it’s not the same man who’d seen him before, who’d joked around with him and called him intelligent and told him about his bike and said Juice is _so much more than this._ He knows what to do though, he’s used to this. Juice shuts down, his body relaxing as he gets a faraway look in his eye, tries to empty his mind of any thoughts as Chibs pushes his cock into his mouth. He barely hears Chibs’ hiss, jaw slack as he man begins to slowly pull and push into him, and if Juice had the mental capacity beyond just white noise, he’d find it funny how quickly Chibs becomes rock hard.

“You’re a fucking slut for this,” Chibs says through gritted teeth, and it shakes Juice, not so much because of the nature of the words, but for the suddenness of them. Chibs is a loud guy, he knows that by the way he’s seen him laugh and joke around, but now that he’s angry there’s this silent rage which fills the air thickly, terrifying Juice, something so eerily empty and cold about it, but still retaining that heat. He doesn’t want to think about his words, doesn’t want to think at all, because he hadn’t known how much time has passed, but now he’s forced back to reality and can’t shut out what’s happening to him. The presence of Chibs’ cock in his throat is suddenly intense, the smell and taste of him overwhelming. He’s hit in the back of the throat with each thrust, and Juice raises a hand to half heartedly grab Chibs’ leg as he gags, desperately trying to regain himself amidst weak chokes. Chibs doesn’t give him a chance. He’s gripping onto his head to keep him still, to move him as he wants, rutting relentlessly into his mouth, anger and heat and _hate_ behind each movement. He lets out guttural grunts through clenched jaw, sounds that are more or less growls that make Juice shiver despite himself. Chibs fucks Juice’s face and comes to the sight of tears in the boy’s eyes, hot and thick down his throat with a final, ugly groan. He holds Juice’s head still and pulls out slowly, hissing at the feeling while Juice tries to catch his breath, face a slobbery mess. He’s barely given a chance before Chibs thrusts again with another groan, hard and fast into Juice’s mouth, forcing a whimpered cry from him. He holds Juice close, his nose pressed against his groin, listening to him splutter and feeling him spasm and constrict, until he eventually pulls away and lets Juice go.

Chibs’ knees feel weak and he feels sick, stares at the boy as if he hadn’t just forced his cock down his throat, as if this is all Juice’s fault. He hadn’t thought it was possible, but he feels angrier, but even worse he can feel the beginnings of guilt to settle in his stomach too, that he tries his best to twist into hatred as he tucks himself back in and does up his pants.

 _‘He hates that he wants me,’_ Juice thinks, his lips curling at the thought, hand raising to wipe at the saliva and cum, but it does nothing to hide the wide smile that spreads across his face. Unfortunately Chibs notices.

“What? Something fucking funny to you?”

Juice grins like the devil up at him, eyes half lidded, and there’s something so _smug_ about the look that it sends Chibs reeling, the sound of his weak, damaged voice only adding fuel to the fire.

“You’re all the fucking same-“

He barely finishes speaking when Chibs strikes him across the face, with such force that it sends Juice falling to the side. He quickly kneels back up, though he’s swaying, still with that sickening grin on his face that glistens in the light with spit and cum. A few breathless chuckles slip tiredly through and Chibs reaches forward to grip his chin harshly, forcing a strained whine from between Juice’s lips, but nothing gets the grin to fade.

 _“What?”_ If anything, his grin just grows, “You gonna hit me again? Come on, big boy. Does it get your dick ha-“

Another blow and a grunt from Chibs cuts Juice off, but he isn’t allowed to fall far before he’s lifted to kneel up straight again, head lolling in Chibs’ hand.

“You’re so-“ His voice is slurred, eyes spinning, but still that smile that twists his usually soft features and slices through Chibs, “so predictable. I knew…I knew you’d be like this…”

“Shut y’fuckin’ mouth. Y’don’t know _anything_ about me.”

“Sure I do…” He drawls out, bruised lips pressing gentle kisses to Chibs’ hand as best he can, “know what you like…know what gets you hard.” He sticks his tongue out and licks a stripe over Chibs’ skin before letting out an ugly laugh. Whether or not he’s trying to get the man madder, it has the affect, and Chibs near roars as he shoves Juice’s head against the wall behind him, hand curling around his throat and pinning him to it.

“You don’t know me-“ Strangled chuckles slip from Juice’s lips as the tears in his threaten to spill, mouth hanging open, Chibs’ jaw clenched, voice a near hiss through gritted teeth, “I don’t like men, and I _don’t_ fucking like _you_ and I never will. You’re just good for a fuck and even then I wouldn’t fucking touch you.” His hand tightens and Juice squeaks, feet kicking, but after a few moments Chibs lets go.

He clenches and unclenches his jaw, the sight of the boy making his stomach turn. Suddenly his hands reach in his pocket to pull out two dollar bills, which he stuffs harshly into Juice’s mouth. Chibs straightens up, sneering, his hands shaking. He leans in slightly just to spit on him, _”Whore,”_ before he turns and walks out.

Juice is left slumped against the wall as he watches him go, his head spinning with pain and confusion and anger but, most of all, an awful sense of despair that’s dragging him down quicker by the second. He takes the money, his worth, his value as a person, out of his mouth, the taste of it overpowering and sick, turning his stomach. He stares at the door and then at the ceiling, the music from the club thumping through his already thudding body, before his eyes flutter closed. He hums, lets out a few more tired laughs that quickly catch into sobs, the gentle words he heard a few nights back playing in his head.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings are caught and hearts are broken

He’s just finished his shift. For once he doesn’t have to work all through the night, and he tries to forget the fact his boss told him he needs to get more rest because he’s looking like shit and he doesn’t want to lose customers. He’s wondering if he should get something to eat, but these days he’s had barely any motivation to do anything, so is just about to get ready for bed when he hears a knock at his door and James stick his head in.

“Your Scotsman is here to see you.”

It’s only because Juice has been acting and hiding things for as long as he can remember that he doesn’t flinch immediately at the mention of Chibs. He freezes though, mouth opening and closing, and at the sight of Juice at a loss for words (a rare occurrence) James begins to suspect that something is up. His brow furrows in confusion, voice cautious, “I’ll…tell him you’re not on for tonight.”

All Juice does is nod and shoot James a worn smile, but after he leaves him standing in his room alone, Juice shakes his head and chides himself. “Get a fucking hold of yourself,” He murmurs, rushing out of his room and letting out a little sigh of relief when he sees James is still there, calling out to him that he’s changed his mind, and to tell Chibs he’ll be down in a few minutes. He goes back into his room and stands in a daze for a few moments. Then suddenly he jumps to action, as if he’s been electrocuted, not to hurry down but to tidy his desk. Next his drawer flies open and he neatens its contents at breakneck speed, hands only pausing when they touch the music box he has hidden there. He takes it out and puts it on his vanity, and then moves to his bed. It’s already been made to the point where it looks like it’s never been slept in, but Juice throws up the covers and pillows and makes it again, then one more time for good measure. When he’s satisfied he runs a hand back over his head, exhaling sharply through his nose. He turns to his vanity and peers into the mirror. He looks good, he knows he looks good because men never stop asking for his services and strangers never stop laying their hands on him, whether or not he’s tired. He grins at himself in the mirror, as if he’s trying the expression out, like it doesn’t belong to him at all, before he takes something out of the music box and hides it away in his drawer again, and then finally heads down to the club.

He wishes his stomach wouldn’t flip as soon as he sees Chibs, and Chibs finds himself wishing the same thing. The older man looks him up and down, but there’s nothing sleazy about it, neither intimidating or confrontational. It almost looks like he’s assessing Juice, making sure he’s alright. Which is a crazy thought. Juice doesn’t even entertain it. Chibs’ heart beats like a jackrabbit as soon as Juice sits beside him, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it, nothing he can do to stop himself feeling tense and at peace at the same time as soon as Juice’s presence fills his senses. He’s a funny kid. Got a unique and special look about him that he no doubt cultivated so he’d get more customers, but Chibs thinks he’d be able to find him blind in a crowd. Chibs thinks he’d be able to do a multitude of things when it comes to Juice, all except tell him how he feels about him or how sorry he is.

In fact, Chibs is finding it difficult to say _anything_ right now. He’s a man of few words generally, but he’s already knocked back three drinks and that usually tends to help, but now it just seems to be numbing his tongue to the point of incapacitation. Juice’s eyes flick to the empty glass, decides they both need something and orders for them. His voice is gentle and unmasked, the way it is when he’s speaking to the other workers here. Chibs supposes it’s because he feels a sort of trust towards them, something like family, or at least as close to family as Juice has ever gotten. He wonders if even they know the real Juice though; the boy is made out of nothing but layers, and he’d laugh, as his mind trails back to some kids’ film he watched with Tig drunk off his fucking head one night, if he wasn’t hurting so much. He wonders if anyone knows the real Juice, if even Juice knows it himself by this point. The first words he’s heard Juice said tonight were about alcohol and not even directed towards Chibs, so why does he feel something warm in his chest? And why isn’t he ignoring it, pushing it away?

But Juice is looking at him now, elbow propped on the bartop with his chin sitting in his hand, staring at Chibs with a smile that dripped sickly sweet, like the sap and nectar that oozed out of decaying flowers at the end of summer. “I missed you,” It’s a half truth and Juice expertly hides the fear he feels as he reaches out with his free hand to place high on Chibs’ thigh. It’s a half truth because Juice _had_ missed him, had thought about him more than he liked. It’s a half truth because he wanted nothing more than to forget the man and never see or think about him again. “I’m glad you came back, was worried you got tired of me.” That smile grows and Chibs tries to distract himself by nursing his drink, but he can’t ignore the hand that moves even higher, grips even tighter, “But you wouldn’t get tired of me, hm big boy? Not when you know I treat you so well.”

It’s like they’ve never met before and there’s no past behind them except business, and really that’s how it should be, isn’t it? That’s how it should be and Chibs shifts, a sigh leaving him as he opens his mouth to say something, but when nothing comes Juice, ever the professional, jumps back in to stop things from getting too awkward.

“I’ve even got a little present for you,” His voice is lilting, trying to draw Chibs in and the man can’t help but get lost in the way Juice grins at him, finds it’s alright as long as he doesn’t focus on it or his eyes too long. Juice chuckles and reaches into his pocket, bringing out the tiny thing with a flourish of his hand, holding it out to him. Chibs doesn’t move.

The fact that Chibs had forgotten the ring behind says it all really. Chibs feels a flash of anger that quickly subsides into something else. It’s clear that Chibs had other things on his mind that distracted him from noticing he’d left the ring again, clear that the ring isn’t _so_ important to him that he’d come marching down here and beat Juice for taking it, that he’d come to see Juice the last time for a different reason, that other motives drove his anger and actions that night. When Chibs doesn’t make any move to take it, Juice places the ring gently on the bartop, and it’s impossible to hear such a small thing over the music, but Chibs swears the clang of it hitting the surface echoes loudly in his ears.

But Juice acts like nothing has happened at all, like the little object doesn’t have a darker meaning, and chuckles, tilting his head, “Musta’ slipped off last time you were round, but I looked after it for you.” He grins, leaning in, brows raising ever so slightly as he lowers his voice, “Now that we’ve returned lost possessions…did you want to get a room?”

It would be so easy to just go along with it. It would be so easy to buy into the little world Juice has created for himself and pretend there isn’t anything between them, that Chibs hadn’t hurt him, that Chibs can’t stop thinking about him, that Chibs doesn’t care for him. It would be so easy and Chibs even wishes it really were that way, that he didn’t feel anything else for Juice except carnal lust, maybe then the guilt wouldn’t be so crushing and his heart wouldn’t feel so broken.

“You eaten today?”

The words bring Juice back to a funny man who laughed with him and bought him food, but he quickly pushes the memory away, smirking instead, “Don’t worry baby, you’re the only one I’m taking care of tonight.”

Chibs is torn. He wants to play into Juice’s game and be no different from any other client, but he also wants to make him stop, to make him smile genuinely and talk about his interests again, to make sure he’s alright, to hold him and apologise and tell him that he-

Chibs nods and Juice’s grin grows as he reaches out to give his hand a squeeze before letting go and walking out of the club with him and over to the motel. He doesn’t look at the motorcycle, and they don’t stop at the diner, and don’t say a word to each other as they climb up the stairs to the rented room. Juice gets the man to sit on the edge of the bed and straddles him, one arm wrapped around his neck while his other hand feels at his chest. He wasn’t expecting the feeling he gets by being so close to him. Suddenly flashes of what happened last time push themselves into his mind, and his grin falters as his usually smooth movements stutter. His chest tightens in something that feels like the beginnings of panic, but Juice almost takes it all as motivation, forcing the thoughts from his mind as he lets out a shaky breath and grinds against Chibs. He resists the urge to flinch when Chibs lifts his hands to place gently on his waist, instead leaning forward to brush his lips up along his jaw, giving his ear lobe a little nibble before he speaks, grinning against Chibs’ skin.

“Give me a moment, hm big boy? Get all nice and ready for me for when I come back, then you can do whatever you want to me.”

And as Chibs watches Juice get up and slink into the bathroom, all Chibs finds he wants to do with Juice (with, not _to)_  is love him.

Juice closes the bathroom door and leans against it with his eyes closed, taking a few deep breaths to calm down and regain himself. He feels stupid, so fucking stupid because he’s  _never_ had someone affect him like this, not since he first started anyway, and it’s never been so… He doesn’t know what it is about Chibs, but thinking about the man makes Juice want to smile and cry, makes him want to believe that Chibs could care for him. Maybe last time didn’t happen at all. Maybe it was all just a horrible nightmare that he conjured up to punish himself. His mind moves so fast, it wouldn’t be the first time he got fake memories mixed with real ones. He still had the ring after all, so maybe Chibs really never came around and did all those things to him.

Either way it doesn’t matter. He’s a prostitute and Chibs is a client, and Juice is here to do his job, nothing more, nothing less. He pushes himself off the door and quickly strips down to his underwear, folding his clothes neatly together and putting them on the floor. _Nothing more, nothing less._ So why is he finding it difficult to walk back into the bedroom? He steps forwards to the sink and switches the tap on to wash his hands, staring down at the running water as he begins to numb down his mind and get into his role.

He’s glad to see Chibs already naked on the bed when he leaves the bathroom; means there’s less work for him and makes it even more obvious as to why they’re both here. Juice grins and sidles up to him, crawls up the bed and pressing kisses to the man’s skin until he’s sitting in his lap, hands holding onto his shoulders. He begins to grind against him, letting out a breathless chuckle at how quickly Chibs gets hard, no doubt the feeling of the fabric against his cock infuriating. Juice hides his face against the man, kissing and mouthing at his neck and jaw as he speeds his movements to the point where they can’t be anything but bordering on the uncomfortable. It takes longer than Juice expects for Chibs to begin to pull at his boxers, as if the man was trying to be courteous, trying to hold himself off. Juice wiggles out of them and moves closer, Chibs letting out a shuddered gasp at the feeling of smooth skin rutting against him. He smiles against the man’s neck, doing nothing more intense than baring his teeth against his skin; he knows not to leave marks, knows he has no right to leave hickies or to lay any sort of claim to anyone. For the most part he tries to avoid gaining marks himself, so he always looks good for customers, but more often that not he returns to the club with bruises of all shapes and sizes.

“You can touch me baby. Can do whatever you want tonight. All yours. All yours.”

Chibs wishes that were true in a way he knows Juice could never give him, but still his hands run down his sides, shuddering when they smooth over his ass. Juice hums at the contact, pushing back into Chibs hands as if to encourage him, breath hitching as soon as the man gropes him, his own hands running down from his shoulders to feel at his chest as he continues sucking at his throat. Chibs’ actions grow harsher despite himself, unable to stop himself rutting up at the feeling of Juice’s soft cheeks, plump and supple in his hands, better than any girl’s he’s had. Just when Juice suspects Chibs is beginning to lose himself, he pulls away, that devilish smile as he escapes Chibs’ hold and moves down until he’s able to nuzzle against his cock. He kisses the tip a few times and then the base, Chibs letting out a gentle grunt at the feeling, trying his best to keep his hands off the boy. It’s different when Juice has some sort of control; he can tease and take his time, make it as nice as he can for Chibs and that’s what he plans to do. He licks up his shaft and takes the head into his mouth, sucking on it gently before pulling off. He sighs onto it, smirking slightly when he sees Chibs squirm, and reaches out to stroke him agonisingly slowly as he tongues his slit. Juice doesn’t want to push his luck though, and before long he takes Chibs into his mouth again, moaning around him as his head begins to bob up and down. He hollows his cheeks and Chibs groans, fights the urge to rut into his mouth that seems to have been made so perfectly for him, but can’t help but reach out to hold his head when Juice swallows his cock into his throat.

Juice can’t help but flinch and let out the smallest whimper as soon as he feels Chibs’ touch, and Chibs notices and freezes. It would be a funny sight, what with both of them frozen awkwardly, a cock rammed into Juice’s mouth, if it wasn’t for the reason behind it. Juice battles with himself and tries to continue, feels shame in the prospect of doing a bad job, but images of last time force themselves into his mind, how Chibs’ had grabbed his head and forced him, what he said, the thoughts making Juice’s throat constrict again. His eyes are watering and he’s back there, fear gripping his chest, and _fuck_ he’s got to push it away, got to force it all away so he can just focus on _this._ He pulls off and doesn’t dare look at Chibs, screams in his head to pull himself together and get a grip of himself. Before long he goes down on him again with expertise, eyes going blank as he shuts himself off. There isn’t really any higher cognitive thinking going on in his brain, but he knows he’s doing a good job because Chibs is groaning and leaking already, hands curled in the sheets. Eventually Juice moves off with a debauched _pop!_ sound, his lips tinted red and glistening, and Chibs wants nothing more than to feel Juice’s swollen lips against his own. But instead Juice just kisses along his jaw, then shoulder, before he lays close besides the man on his front. It’s clear what he’s waiting for, but Chibs stares at him like it’s something bizarre, even though he knows anyone else would have gotten ontop of the boy in a matter of seconds.

Juice hears a grunt and feels a hand on his hip, doesn’t piece together what’s going on until Chibs has moved him onto his back and leans above him. He stares up with blank eyes, and only when Chibs leans in to kiss him does he begin to wake up. He blinks a few times, and it’s sad because his first thought isn’t to acknowledge how his entire body had unfurled and melted into the kiss, nor about how gentle Chibs is being, but the fact that he has to come back to reality now that he’s facing the man, doesn’t want to risk looking bad or not pleasing him. He mewls quietly, a little sound deep from within that he didn’t need to fake because it just comes naturally as he feels Chibs’ hands run over his body and explore him, like he can’t get enough of the boy and wants to commit every dip and curve to memory. When Chibs pushes into him it’s slow and careful, and Juice lets out a weak gasp as his hands flutter up to Chibs’ chest, then wraps his arms around his neck. Chibs stills as if he’s waiting for permission and Juice hates it, hates even more that the man only begins to move when Juice nods. He pushes and pulls at a pace that’s rarely awarded people like him, and Juice thinks he’s getting dizzy with it, especially with the fact that Chibs continues kissing him with such emotion that it makes him gasp. Chibs speaks with actions rather than words, and he hopes that Juice understands what he’s trying to say to him.

Juice can’t look at him. He can’t because then he might get too lost in the feeling of it all. If he looks into Chibs’ eyes he might forget who they are and what they mean to each other. He wants to pull Chibs closer and push him away all at the same time, his thrusts making his back arch and whined moans slip from between corrupted lips, eyes fluttering closed. He can’t look at him because he might see an emotion there he doesn’t recognise, hidden in the lines of the man who had been so angry the time before. And maybe that’s why the entire thing destroys Juice so, to think that someone could treat him like this but hit and humiliate and hurt him just as easily. It makes something in Juice’s chest ache, makes him fight to hold back a little sob when Chibs tries to get the boy to look at him.

He won’t, he refuses to, but that doesn’t seem to discourage Chibs at all, in fact it maybe even does the very opposite, makes him want to pull Juice apart and put him back together again with nothing but the care and warmth and adoration he _knows_ the boy deserves. He kisses his neck, feels the impossibly quick pulse under his lips, the delicate skin throbbing. Juice does everything he can not to look at him; stares over the man’s shoulder, throws his head to the side, closes his eyes, but it’s almost like it’s a struggle for him, like he has to resist the urge to just fall under the spell that’s been cast over them, that’s taken them away from a dingy motel by a strip club, away from who they are.

Juice has been fucked more times than he cares to remember, and even if his clients would care about him getting any satisfaction from the encounter, it takes more work anyone would want to put in. So Juice is utterly shocked to find such gentle treatment has brought him so quickly to the edge like this, that when Chibs kisses him again and moves to hold one of his hands with his, fingers laced together, Juice lets out a loud whimper, jerking upwards as he shudders, moving in time with Chibs’ thrusts. It’s absolutely overwhelming being treated like this in a way Juice doesn’t understand. It’s even crazier that when Chibs speeds up to the point Juice can’t control the moans falling from his mouth, it’s one of Juice’s own thoughts that makes him come, jackknifing against the man as he imagines a simple sentence he’s never heard said genuinely to him before in a thick Scottish accent. Chibs feels Juice tighten around his cock and leans in to catch his own name tumbling from the boy’s lips as he pushes deep into him and comes with a shuddered groan, arm wrapping around Juice and pulling him as tight and close to him as possible. They lay there then, chests heaving with their wet, tired breaths the only sound in the air. They’re still, but then Chibs pulls back, only to thrust slowly into him again making Juice whine, before he pulls out completely. His arms wrap around the smaller figure, like he wants to envelop Juice into his very being and never let him go. He begins to kiss him again, and though the kisses are slower and lazier, they don’t lack any of the emotion of before, even more if anything. He begins to kiss him again and for once Juice’s mind is quiet, no deafening buzz or thoughts too quick to keep up with, just a relaxed ease as their lips move against each other. As soon as they stop Juice looks away, up at the ceiling, and without the kisses it doesn’t take too long for the magic to wear off.

“That’s $70 please,” The sound of his own voice surprises him. It sounds distant, quiet, and Juice even wonders if he even said something in the first place, whether it was really him. His lips moved, he thinks, slow and sluggish. But he feels numb, like he’s watching a scene from far away, like he has no part in it and had walked in uninvited. Juice barely notices the fact that Chibs had frozen stock still at the sound of his words, doesn’t take in how his own body slumps like a rag doll as soon as Chibs unwraps his arms from around him and gets up. Chibs reaches for his wallet and tries to ignore how his hands shake like a drunkard’s, how he feels something cold and sickly settle in his stomach. Suddenly Juice finds himself in the bathroom again, though he doesn’t remember getting there, staring at his hands as he washes them unthinkingly. Eventually he looks up and sees himself in the mirror, and he wonders if it really is him, if this is his life, if this is an actual person staring back at him with empty eyes. Something snaps in him and his breath hitches.

Chibs sits on the edge of the bed, foot tapping and fingers interlocked in an attempt to hide his shaking hands. He’s been battling with his emotions again, a swirling mess he couldn’t figure out but over the past few days there’s been one that keeps pushing to the forefront, and for the first time he’d even considered accepting how he feels for Juice. But however he feels doesn’t change how the boy feels about him, and the way his voice had sounded so dead, how he’d refused to look at him, still burns in his mind. Perhaps the worst thing is how when he’d kissed Juice with such yearning and emotion and tenderness, he’s sure he felt a spark. He puts it down to his heart playing tricks on him.

Juice doesn’t know how much time has passed by the time he’s switched off the tap and gotten dressed, but when he walks out the room is empty, the only sign of what’s happened the tussled bedsheets and the money on the bedside table. He feels dirty taking it (he doesn’t need to count it to know it’s more than what he asked for), but that’s not so strange.

Juice almost falls down the stairs, stumbles unbelievably slowly out and round the back of the dingy motel. His hand reaches out to support himself against the wall as his stomach heaves, a broken sob as he realises he doesn’t have anything to throw up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yooooooo thank you so much !! for waiting so long lmaoo i was super busy with stuff and then it was difficult getting back into writing. ive read in a few places that juice has ocd and while this is sorta suggested here you can also read the tidying and hand washing as stress tics (the hand washing thing is one i have myself LMAO)
> 
> personally i think juice is somewhere on the autism spectrum but thaaaaaaaaats not relevant and something for a different day
> 
> thanks again for waiting !! any feedback at all is appreciated so much,,,i'll update again soon as soon as i can
> 
> P.S kudos to u if u spot the shrek reference,,,


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chibs makes a promise

Chibs’ comes back a few times and it’s like they’re back to square one, where he’s nothing but a client and Juice is nothing but a whore. He always buys him for an hour or so, and each time Juice begins his little show, Chibs’ asks him to stop. Chibs pays for Juice to sit with him, to eat, to sleep (it breaks his heart to see how exhausted the boy often is), and eventually they even begin to talk. Conversation is empty, fruitless, just a means to relieve Juice of his nerves. Chibs’ isn’t the best at speaking anyway, and Juice is adamant to not let his guard down again. Neither make any mention of the night they were together, and both try not to think about it.

Juice doesn’t like it, if he’s being honest. He doesn’t like it because he doesn’t know how to behave when he’s not fucking, doesn’t know what’s expected of him or what the rules are. He doesn’t understand the reason behind it either, and was more than weirded out the first time they spent sitting together absolutely silent, not even looking at each other. Not doing anything means it’s difficult to distract himself too. Juice has always had a mind that ran away with itself. It sounds more idyllic than he it is. His mind works much too quickly for anyone to keep up with, including himself sometimes. The world around him is slow and sometimes his mouth is too, forming half words and sentences from conversations long gone or not even imagined yet. Drugs slow it down, alcohol too sometimes, and when he’s working he blanks out to the point where his thoughts don’t move at all. Things confuse him at the best of times, and with Chibs it’s no different, especially because of the fact that two different versions of the man exist in his mind. There’s the funny one, the wise one who rides a motorcycle and buys him food and lets him sleep when he’s tired and has a loud laugh when he’s in the mood for it. Then there’s the one that’s angry and full of hate, no different from any of the other clients he gets that want to take out their griefs and desires on someone that’s barely a person to them, that they never have to think of again. He doesn’t know which is the real one, and though the second one frightens him, hurts him in a way no other customer has been able to hurt him before, he thinks it’s the easier version to live with.

It’s another one of those nights, and if Juice wasn’t a paranoid person, he’d say he’d gotten used to the man’s peculiar tendencies. They’re sitting together on small couch in one of the back rooms, Chibs staring into space and nursing a drink as he always does, thoughts imperceptible but seemingly enough to mull in. He’s feeling somewhat antsy, keeps glancing at the man as if expecting to be jumped, and a part of him wants him to more than anything, because then at least he’d know what to do.

Eventually Juice lets out a deep sigh, stretching out like a lazy cat, before curling back in on himself and turning to look at Chibs.

“You’re wasting me like this, you know?” There’s the hints of amusement to his lips that Chibs’ gaze latches onto. It’s not the dazzling smile he saw in glimpses so long ago when Juice would break out of his shell, but it’s something real, something he can take instead of the grins the boy plasters on for his customers. He’s missed it, oh how he’s missed it, but catching just a flash of it reminds him how much he’s yearned for it, making his heart ache. He’s so lost in his thoughts he doesn’t respond, doesn’t notice that he doesn’t either until Juice snorts, but Chibs does nothing more than let out an unintelligible grumble.

Juice understands him, apparently, “You are! That’s the only thing I’m good for really, and from what I hear I _am_ good, so…”

Chibs shrugs, lips lifting slightly in something akin to a sneer as he grunts, “Not the only thing…”

Juice chuckles and shakes his head, but listens as Chibs continues, “Besides. Not a waste. You get a rest, don’t ya?”

The boy watches him closely, almost intrusively so, to the point where Chibs has to look away from him. Juice hums quietly, a small smirk twisting his lips slightly. He’s getting too comfortable around him, he thinks. “Yeah. I get rest I guess. But resting is not my job.”

Chibs doesn’t have anything to say to that, can’t help but feel like he’s being scrutinised somehow, but lets the feeling roll off his shoulders like water off a duck’s back. Juice gets to rest. He doesn’t have to do his degrading work, if even just for a few hours every so often. A while of silence pauses, before Juice breaks it again.

“Mmm…you know it’s my birthday next week?”

“That so? How old you turning?”

Juice shrugs, answer automatic, “Old enough,” He continues before Chibs can think any more about it, “coz’ it’s my birthday drinks are cheaper. I’m cheaper too.” He grins, as if he isn’t speaking about the selling of his body, “you haven’t seen popular ’til you’ve come on my birthday. Very busy night for me.”

Chibs clenches and unclenches his jaw, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’d think I’d be allowed a break for my birthday, right?!” He snorts, shaking his head at the joke, “But it’s a good gimmick I guess.”

“Will I get to see you?”

“Of _course._ You’ll just have to wait in line,” He grins, “or come early enough to book me.”

Chibs thinks about all of his regulars that he no doubt has, and more besides, coming in just to have their way with the kid like he was some toy or fairground ride. Possession and jealousy has never aided him, not through all the things he’s passed through; the army, the IRA, the MCs…but it’s a drive of his he’s never been able to get rid of, and he can’t help but have that fire stoked for the boy now. But it’s not just that. It’s the fact that something so _normal_ seeming, something’s that’s supposed to be special, is twisted into a way to make Juice work more, to make more money. Can he not be offered the pretence of peace even on his birthday? Can he not ever just care for himself? He wonders if Juice sees his own birthday as anything other than a discount day, if he even thinks about the meaning that’s supposed to be behind it, thinks about the things he’s supposed to be doing. It makes Chibs’ stomach turn.

“Could I book you for the entire night?” The language leaves a bad taste in his mouth, but it’s the only way he thinks he could get Juice onboard.

His brow furrows momentarily, before he snorts, a slight scoff to his voice, “Look, I’m cheaper but I don’t think you could afford to have me the entire night.”

“And if I could?”

Juice doesn’t say anything, but he can’t help his heart beating faster.

“I could pay for the night. The entire evening. Pay whatever you would have earned but you can stay with me. I can pay.”

“You couldn’t…”

“I could get you food and we could get a room.”

His voice is quieter now, a slight shake to it, “You couldn’t.”

“And you could do whatever you want. You wouldn’t have to work on your birthday for once. You wouldn’t have to pretend.”

Juice stares with an expression that looks heartbroken, big dark eyes with a sad sheen to them that makes him look younger than he is. Or maybe that’s not quite right. Maybe the prospect of having a birthday with even the semblance of normalcy brings out the child in him he was never allowed to be. Maybe the thought that someone could care about him, even just a little bit, makes the mask he’s cultivated over many years slip. He doesn’t think he can remember a birthday that has been pleasant, not even if he tries to remember his life before he came here. He can imagine what it’s supposed to be. Candles, cake, balloons and wrapping paper, music and grins that aren’t malevolent or cruel. The feeling of being wanted for something other than his body, that someone should be happy that he’s there. That he should be happy to be living another year.

He suddenly realises he’s been holding his breath. He lets it out carefully, concentrating on it, as though if he didn’t control it’s release than a whole cacophony of emotions would escape with it. Chibs is still staring at him, waiting patiently, always patiently. He doesn’t know anyone who’s patient with him.

Juice swallows, voice tentative, “…Are you serious?”

Chibs nods, feeling something like nerves himself.

“…You’d do that for me?”

Chibs nods again.

Juice opens his mouth but quickly closes it again, much too afraid to ask _why,_ to even consider what the answer may be. His heart thumps so loud that it embarrasses him, is sure that Chibs can hear it and see how much this all means to him.

Now it’s Juice’s turn to nod, though it’s jerky, unsure, “Okay. Okay, yeah. If…if you think you can pay, if you _want_ to-“

“I want to, I can do it,” Chibs interrupts hurriedly, “fuck, I’ll come as lunch time to make sure I get you.”

Juice grins at that, and though he bites his lip to try and hide it, there’s no mistaking it for the grin it is. Bright, genuine, that one that Chibs had missed so much, that one that makes some sort of warmth come over him, make his head spin.

“You won’t have to come _that_ early but…yeah. Yeah, okay then,” There’s something like excitement in his voice, in his smile, and Chibs’ finds himself smiling too just at the sight of it. They catch each other’s eye and chuckle, both looking away quickly.

Juice shakes his head, amusement still in his tone, ” _Shit,_ okay. God. I-“ He shakes his head again and goes to the door, “I gotta go but I’ll…I’ll see you Saturday then. Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He nods, “Okay.” Fuck, he must sound like an idiot but for once he doesn’t care, for once he’s actually looking forward to something. His hand pauses on the door handle, his smile falling as his mind begins to work a mile a minute again.

“I don’t know why I’m letting you get my hopes up,” It’s said with a chuckle but Juice can’t hide the plea in his voice, nor his eyes, the desperateness of the true meaning, _’Please don’t let me down.’_ Chibs hopes his intent is clear in his own eyes. He’s run out of words to try and reassure the boy.

Juice smiles and nods, giving a last goodbye before leaving, and though he has to work to the early hours of the morning, the thought of a funny man and a promise keeps him going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey yo so,,,,,,,,,first of all id like to apologise for this being so late. ive been busy with stuff and all and this chapter was difficult to write for me for some reason. hopefully that now ive got the ball rolling again the other parts should come out quicker. thank you for all your comments and encouragement ! i came back to read them multiple times over the months and plan to respond to each of you individually im just...awkward and overwhelmed by the fact that people like my writing
> 
> other than that ! since posting chapter 7 ive actually watched season 7 of soa ! thats right folks i hadnt actually completed the show before finishing it. my thoughts? in a nutshell this season confirmed the fact that kurt is a shit writer and soa is a very poorly written show. there were some shining moments, but continuity and character wise this was one of the worst seasons, and thats saying something. im not about to get into it but...yeah the characters of soa - great. the actual show/plot itself...well it's a miss for me but i mean im late to the game anyway so it doesnt matter. just in case u were interested as to my thoughts !
> 
> thank you so much for reading and sticking with me ! i hope you enjoy the chapter and know that i do value all your feedback dearly


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